


If You Listen

by SemperAeternumQue



Series: Remember [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Maglor is not okay, No One Is Okay, Not Happy, Past Character Death, Past Child Abandonment, Poor Elrond, Post-War of Wrath, Sad, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Written during finals week forgive any mistakes, no beta we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue
Summary: A short, angsty piece on the choice of the Peredhil in the aftermath of the War of Wrath. Very, very sad. You have been warned.Sequel to 'The Last Light' and 'To Fade Into the Rising Sun'. Title from Remember 'If you listen/you'll hear me call across the sky'.





	1. Maglor

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be posting any more fics, since I am literally in the middle of finals and I have one both tomorrow and the day after, but inspiration struck and so you're getting another fic! I don't have the last two sections written right now, but I will hopefully get them posted over the weekend, since finals are over Friday. (Yay, freedom at last!) In general, these are not happy and none of the characters are really in a good place mentally right now, so look after yourselves. I have posted chapter warnings for each chapter. Also, I know I promised you guys an update on Messages in Bottles, but I got writers block on that one so I'm posting this. I'll post the update this weekend, promise! 
> 
> Chapter warnings for this chapter: Mild suicidal thoughts, angst, self-worth issues. 
> 
> Maglor is really not okay right now.

Maglor approaches the camp, hoping to speak to the Edain there. He is supposed to be gone forever, and as soon as he is done here he will leave, but he wants word of Elrond and Elros. He cannot leave if he does not know they are alright. He cannot.

Maglor is not nervous as he walks into the camp and smiles a greeting to the men there. Once upon a happier time, Maglor was known for having near all the charisma of his father, and the Edain are unlikely to recognize him. If they do and decide to kill a lone kinslayer in vengeance for what Maglor has done, Maglor has nothing to lose. Death is the kindest mercy that could be given to him now, although he is not yet shattered enough to seek it as Maedhros did.

Many would say he has nothing left to live for, father dead, brothers dead, condemned for his crimes by all and sundry, yet Maglor stays. He has children to look after. Although Elros and Elrond are grown now and surely safer without him in their lives, that does not mean he cannot watch over them from afar.

With that goal in mind, Maglor approaches the nearest person, an elderly washerwoman, and taps her gently on the shoulder. “Forgive me, dear lady, but I am looking for news of my family?”

She turns and startles. Suddenly, Maglor is painfully aware that he must look dreadful with his tangled hair, dirty, torn clothes and downcast eyes. “I do not mean offense, my lady, but I am desperate for news.”

The woman frowns and looks him up and down. “You look terrible! Too thin.”

Maglor knows. Rations were always thin in the Feanorian camp, and many of Maglor’s went to Elrond and Elros.

“I can’t deny anyone news for their family, but do come have a meal!” She sits him firmly down and disappears into the camp, returning with some soup and bread. Maglor tries to refuse, knowing he does not deserve her kindness, but she insists rather strongly.

As he eats, reluctantly and slowly given the burns on his hand, she resumes her washing. “Now, who were you asking about?” 

“I…am a distant relative of the peredhil. Do you know what their fate was?” It is not untrue that he is their distant relative, but he leaves out his name and house.

“The peredhil?” The washerwoman asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

“The half-elven.” Maglor clarifies. “Related to the king of the elves?” She nods slowly, frowning as if trying to remember something. “I’m not sure I quite know,” She starts, and Maglor’s heart sinks, “but I remember something about them being allowed to choose to be men or elves.”

Maglor tries not to panic. “And which did they choose?” 

“I think Prince Earendil and Princess Elwing both chose to be elves.” The kind woman answers, scrubbing a stained shirt fiercely. “And their sons?” Maglor asks, heart pounding. She frowns again. “Their sons? One chose to be a man and one to be an elf.”

Maglor’s heart clenches. One twin will die, and one will live. They will be sundered until the breaking of the world. He wonders which of his brave, wonderful twins chose to die. Did kind, wise Elrond, too broken already, choose the Gift of Men? Or was it bold, strong Elros, ever the more hasty and mannish? Who will have to live without the other?

“Wh-which one chose the Gift of Men?” He asks.

If he were to be truthful with himself, he knows instinctively which one chose the Gift of Men, but he has to ask regardless.

“Why, King Elros of course!” the woman exclaims, giving him a stern look as if asking how even an elf could not know that. “I suppose he isn’t quite a king yet, but he promised to unite us all, and we’ll be leaving to this Isle of the Gift soon enough.”

She scrubs at the stain some more. “It’s his brother that chose immortality. We see them around the camp occasionally, and Prince Elrond always seems terribly elf-like to me. Not that that’s a bad thing!” She adds hurriedly, looking at the elf before her.

Maglor tries and fails to smile. “Thank you very much for the food and the news, my lady. I’m afraid I must go, but your hospitality was much appreciated.”

With that, he slips away into the shadow of the trees, back to his lonely life so he may tend this new grief.


	2. Elrond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, second chapter! I was a little iffy on this one, but I hope it's okay.
> 
> Chapter warnings: angst, implied/referenced suicide, past child abandonment. 
> 
> As always, please leave feedback!

Two boys stand nervously under the watchful gaze of the Herald of Manwe. He has summoned them for reasons unknown, and thus they stand in the pavilion, awaiting his pronouncement.

Elrond is nervous-who wouldn’t be when faced with one of the Ainur-but he knows his face does not betray him. Elrond has never been one to display his emotions prominently. Despite this, Elros must sense Elrond's fear because he squeezes Elrond’s hand gently, and Elrond has never been so grateful for his brother.

Eonwe turns to them and dips his head in welcome.

“Greetings, peredhil.” The Maia says.

“I have summoned you forth for a crucial choice. Since there is uncertainty if the peredhil fall under the fate of men or elves, the Valar have decreed that they may choose their own path. I offer that choice to you today.”

The twins glance at each other in shock. “Do we have to choose now?” Elros asks, ever one to blurt out his thoughts. Elrond is still trying to process what they have just been told.

“Yes.” The Herald says with terrible finality.

Elrond is in shock, but Elros, always the more impulsive, steps forward. He says, “I will choose the path of the Edain,” and Elrond’s world shatters.

Elros has been his everything for as long as he can remember. Elros was the one person who always stayed, who was with him through their father leaving, through their mother jumping and their kidnapping/adoption.

Elros was by his side as they moved from camp to camp with the Feanorians. Elros stood with him when they were abandoned with Gil-galad and when they later confronted Maglor and Maedhros about it.

Yet Elrond cannot stay with his brother as Elros stayed with him, cannot choose the path of the Edain. He would be a terrible man, and he is wise enough to know it. 

It is with a slight tremble in his voice that Elrond says. “I will choose the path of the Eldar.” His voice breaks slightly on the last word, although he rarely cries for sorrow.

Eonwe dips his head lightly. “Then you are free to go. You have made your choice.” He seems almost sorrowful, if the Ainur can feel such a thing, as he tells them. “There is no going back.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you choose that?” Elrond hisses as soon as he and Elros have time to themselves, tucked up in their tiny tent.

His brother meets his gaze. “I can’t be an elf, ‘Rond. I can’t watch my kin fall into despair. I can’t see ages come and go. I was never made for immortality. I was made to live…and then leave. I will live a good life, and then I will go beyond the world and escape.” 

Elrond’s breath catches, and his voice shakes as he turns to his brother. “This is your way of doing what Atar did.” 

Elros does not deny the quiet accusation, and Elrond feels another crack form in his patched-together heart. “Why?” He asks again.

Elros’ voice is raspy as he says, “Because…Because I don’t want to live in a world where parents can leave their children like we were left. I don’t want a mother and father who never loved us or adoptive parents who left us with strangers.”

The words cut deep, but there is truth in them. Elrond does not want to think that Earendil and Elwing never loved them, but an insidious part of him whispers that it is true, they were never loved. And no one can deny that Maedhros and Maglor left them with Gil-galad, a near-stranger and distant relative. Still, Elrond refuses to believe that they are not loved.

“What about me?” He asks. Elros looks away, not meeting his gaze. “You will be happy as an elf.”

It is not an answer, but Elrond does not push. He is too tired and sad to speak of this any longer.

“I love you, ‘Ros.”

There are tears on Elros’ face as he says. “Love you too, ‘Rond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atar is Quenya for father, and Elrond is referring to Maedhros.


	3. Elros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter and my favorite yet! For some reason, Elros' perspective always turns out the best in this series. I'm not sure why. (Well, I think it turns out the best. What do you guys think?) 
> 
> Chapter warnings: mild suicidal thoughts, excessive angst, past child abandonment. 
> 
> Elros is not okay. NO ONE IS FUCKING OKAY. Okay, I'm sorry, I'm emotional tonight. 
> 
> Please leave feedback, whether you liked it or hated it!

The twins stand in the pavilion, awaiting the word of the Maia before them. Elrond is silent, even more so than normal, and that is how Elros knows that he is nervous.

Elros squeezes his brother’s hand in reassurance and tries not to glare at Eonwe. 

Eonwe spared Maglor and Maedhros and Elros supposed he should be grateful, but he also let the Feanorians leave. Elros is not sure he can forgive Eonwe for that.

Deep down, he knows that it is not reasonable to blame Eonwe for their abandonment, but it is easier to think that Eonwe should have done something. As the leader of the host of the Valar, Eonwe was perhaps the sole being who could have kept Elros’ parents from leaving.

Elros wishes he had.

After a long time of waiting, Eonwe turns and offers the twins what is likely meant to be a reassuring smile, but turns out mildly creepy. Eonwe and all the other Maiar have an air of otherness that they have not quite managed to mask, and they do not seem to understand elves or men well at all. It is more than a little unsettling.

“Greetings, peredhil.” The Herald says. “I have summoned you forth for a crucial choice. Since there is uncertainty if the peredhil fall under the fate of men or elves, the Valar have decreed that they may choose their own path. I offer that choice to you today.”

“Do we have to choose now?” Elros blurts.

Eonwe responds with the word that dooms them both. “Yes.”

Since Elrond seems frozen beside him, Elros speaks again. “I will choose the path of the Edain.” He feels more than sees Elrond go very, very still and calm.

“I will choose the path of the Eldar.” Elrond’s voice is steady enough, but it breaks on the last word. Elros’ heart breaks alongside it, but he knows that they have both made the right choice. He does not want to watch the world change and those he loves change alongside it. He prefers the swift glory of a mortal life, and a mortal life he will have. Elrond, with his visions and foresight and gift for healing, will live out the countless years of an elf, as he was always meant to.

“Then you are free to go,” Eonwe says, breaking his thoughts. “You have made your choice. There is no going back.” 

When they return to the tiny tent given to them, Elrond instantly turns to Elros. His face is calm, but to anyone who knows him, anguish is written clear as day in his grey eyes.

“Why did you do it? Why did you choose that?” Elrond hisses, the closest he ever gets to demanding answers from Elros.

Elros struggles for words to explain his choice to the brother who is so clearly meant to be an elf. “I can’t be an elf, ‘Rond. I can’t watch my kin fall into despair. I can’t see ages come and go. I was never made for immortality. I was made to live…and then leave. I will live a good life, and then I will go beyond the world and escape.”

He hears his brother’s breath catch in his throat. “This is your way of doing what Atar did.” Elros cannot deny it. Elrond has ripped through all his facades and gotten straight to the truth, as he always does.

“Why?” Elrond asks, almost pleadingly. “Because…Because I don’t want to live in a world where parents can leave their children like we were left. I don’t want a mother and father who never loved us or adoptive parents who left us with strangers.” Elros is surprised at how rough his voice is. He supposes that it’s never easy to explain to your brother why you want to die.

It cannot be easy to hear explained either, and Elros can see his brother’s pain as he opens his mouth again with the words that Elros can never forget. “What about me?” His voice is too small, too broken. “You will be happy as an elf.” Elros tells him.

It is not an answer, but it seems to be enough. Elrond looks down at his hands. “I love you, ‘Ros.” 

Elros is most certainly NOT crying. “Love you too, ‘Rond.”


	4. Maedhros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrrg, this chapter just kicked my ass, pardon my French. I hope it's okay. It doesn't feel okay. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: trauma, general angst, past character death, past child abandonment, implied/referenced suicide, mild suicidal thoughts. (Does it count as suicidal thoughts if the character is already dead but wants to leave the halls of Mandos and go beyond the circles of the world? I'm putting it there anyways.) 
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated.

In the Halls of Mandos, Maedhros watches the events of Middle Earth through the tapestries strung across the walls. He is not allowed to see his family, but no one stops him from going to the loom and watching over Arda through the tapestries Vaire weaves. He spends most of his days here, trying to see how Maglor, Elrond, and Elros are doing.

Given how much time he watches the tapestries, it is no surprise that he is present when Elrond and Elros are offered the choice of the Peredhil.

Maedhros watches with fear as Eonwe calls them in. “Greetings, peredhil. I have summoned you forth for a crucial choice. Since there is uncertainty if the peredhil fall under the fate of men or elves, the Valar have decreed that they may choose their own path. I offer that choice to you today.”

Maedhros’ nonexistent breath catches in his throat. Somehow, he knows this will not end well.

“Do we have to choose now?” Elros blurts in the tapestry, impulsive as he ever is.

“Yes,” Eonwe says, stern and solemn.

Maedhros’ hands clench into fists as he watches fear flit across both twins’ faces. Darn Eonwe for making them choose so soon after the war. They are too young to make this choice.

Fingon squeezes his hand, sensing what is wrong. “I know. They are too young.”

In the tapestry, Elros steps forward boldly. “I will choose the path of the Edain.” Elrond goes still and calm. His face betrays nothing, but Maedhros knows he is hurting. “I will choose the path of the Eldar.”

Maedhros can hear the crack in his voice, the only sign of the pain he surely is feeling.

"Then you are free to go.” Eonwe says, serious and unblinking. “You have made your choice. There is no going back.”

Maedhros watches the twins return to their tiny tent amongst Gil-galad’s forces. He still holds Fingon’s incorporeal hand tightly, clinging to that little bit of comfort.

In the tapestry, the twins are back at their tent. “Why did you do it? Why did you choose that?” Elrond asks. Elros turns to his brother, and Maedhros sees the pain he tries to hide. “I can’t be an elf, ‘Rond. I can’t watch my kin fall into despair. I can’t see ages come and go. I was never made for immortality. I was made to live…and then leave. I will live a good life, and then I will go beyond the world and escape.”

It sounds too similar to what Maedhros thought when he took his life. Too similar to what he would do if he could.

Elrond catches this too, and his voice breaks with sorrow as he says, “This is your way of doing what Atar did.”

Elros says nothing, and Maedhros’ heart breaks for his sons.

“Why?” Elrond asks, still calm and level, yet as close as he gets to demanding anything. “Because…Because I don’t want to live in a world where parents can leave their children like we were left. I don’t want a mother and father who never loved us or adoptive parents who left us with strangers.” Elros says, and Maedhros’ heart breaks all over again.

It cracks further as Elrond asks, “What about me?” sounding far too broken for his young age. “You will be happy as an elf,” Elros replies.

It is not an answer. All of them know that. Yet Elrond does not push further. Instead, he says, “I love you, ‘Ros.”

“Love you too, ‘Rond.” Elros says, and his eyes are teary.

For the first time since he threw himself into that chasm, Maedhros wishes he had not. He wants to go to Middle Earth and scoop his kind, wonderful sons up into his arms and promise them everything will be okay. He wants to hold Elrond through his grief and tell Elros that there are things worth living for. He wants to see Maglor again.

Fingon must sense this, for he gives Maedhros the spiritual equivalent of a kiss. “I’m sorry, my love. I know you want to be there.”

“I do. But I have you.”


	5. Gil-galad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gil-galad's chapter! The last and the one I'm least happy with, but it needed to be posted. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Implied/referenced suicide, dark. Gil-galad is the least fucked up of all these characters, although that's not saying much. 
> 
> As usually, if y'all could comment and/or leave kudos, that would be amazing. I love any and all feedback, please let me know how I'm doing at this whole writing thing!

Gil-galad watches as the peredhil are called into the pavilion, awaiting the word of Eonwe. They seem nervous, both of them, and Gil-galad silently hopes that it is nothing bad they are called for. Neither deserves any more misfortune after all they have been through.

He is not present to witness the choice itself, but he hears of it after. Eonwe sees him on his way across the camp and calls a greeting, and Gil-galad cannot help but ask him “What did you need to see the peredhil twins for, my lord?”

Eonwe seems melancholy, if Ainur even feel such a thing. “The Valar…have decided that the peredhil may choose their own fate since there was uncertainty as to which path they would follow. I was to offer them this choice today.” They walk through the camp in silence.

Eventually, Gil-galad thinks to ask, “What did they choose?”

Eonwe is quiet for a moment longer before he says, “Prince Elros has chosen the path of the Edain. Prince Elrond has chosen the path of the Eldar.”

_Oh._

There is another long moment of silence before Eonwe says, “I have…what would you Eldar call it? Business to attend to.” Gil-galad nods and sees the herald off, making his way through the Noldor camp, still deep in thought. He pauses outside the peredhil’s tent, debating if he should go in or leave them be.

The decision is made for him when he hears voices from inside. “Why did you do it? Why did you choose that?” Gil-galad is fairly sure the voice is Elrond’s, but he cannot be certain. He knows he should not be here, listening to the conversation between brothers, but he cannot help it.

“I can’t be an elf, ‘Rond.” Another voice, clearly Elros, filters through the canvas. “I can’t watch my kin fall into despair. I can’t see ages come and go. I was never made for immortality. I was made to live…and then leave. I will live a good life, and then I will go beyond the world and escape.” The words strike like a knife, and Gil-galad feels guilt for having heard what is so clearly private.

“This is your way of doing what Atar did.” Elrond’s shaking voice accuses, and Gil-galad manages to tear himself away.

Over the years they have lived with him he has gotten to know the peredhil a little, and they seem to be kind and good. He wishes that neither had to go through this parting, although they made the choice for themselves. Still, to be sundered for eternity from one you love is one of the hardest things to endure and Gil-galad regrets that his youngest kinsmen will go through such a thing.

He would not wish that on anyone, especially not one this young.

The twins have lost their mother, father, and foster parents. Soon, they will lose each other too and Gil-galad can only hope that will not be the loss to break them.

(Later, when he sees a familiar figure asking about the welfare of the peredhil twins, he leaves it be. Maglor is a kinslayer, yes, but a harmless and thoroughly broken one. Gil-galad trusts him to not stir up trouble, and, well, if he should return to the children he left behind, it will not be such a great tragedy. Gil-galad would turn a blind eye, for Eru knows the twins still need a parental figure, even if he is a dispossessed kinslayer.

But Maglor does not return, and Gil-galad resumes his role of supporting the twins and holding the Noldor together.

It has become far too familiar.)


End file.
